Short Skirt, Long Jacket
by Fourth Time's the Charm
Summary: Brittany never knew she had a school girl fetish until she met the Crawford Canary's lead soloist. Brittana
1. Part 1

**Short Skirt, Long Jacket**

_Summary:_ Brittany never knew she had a school girl fetish until she met the Crawford Canary's lead soloist.

_Pairings: _Brittana, minor Quitt, mentions: Bartie, Quam, Fuinn

_Warnings: _sexual content (semi-public, fingering, oral) and language

Notes: The title is "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" by Cake, which strangely fits my headcanon on Santana.

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><p><em>Part One<em>

**Sectionals**

She can feel nerves churning in her stomach, for more than just one reason. Artie isn't talking to her; he probably knows she lost the magic comb. They're going to lose, and it will be all her fault. It's all because she's so stupid.

Brittany sighs and leans her forehead against the cool window of the bus. Quinn is sitting a few seats ahead with Sam when all she needs is her best friend to tell her she's going to amazing. Suddenly that feeling in her stomach is a lot more like jealousy than anxiety. Sam is stupid, and she doesn't understand why Quinn likes him so much. Sure, he has nice abs, but hers are just as good! He isn't even a natural blonde.

Quinn has made her way through the stupid jocks and onto the stupid blondes. When will it be her turn?

She lets out a snort of frustration. Artie makes her feel all tingly, (not horny-tingly, but happy-tingly) and it's usually enough to distract her from the other blonde Cheerio. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have a short skirt fetish. Life would be a lot less complicated.

Omigod…

That's the cutest puppy she's ever seen.

Brittany lets out a whine when the bus takes her away from the cute puppy on the sidewalk, but she cheers up slightly at the sight of the parking lot of Sectionals. She loves performing and dancing…oh, and now the nerves are back.

Rachel gives her a weird look when she notices the green tinge to her face but doesn't say anything. She's been mad at her ever since she found out that Brittany took Finn's virginity last year. It wasn't anything personal; she just needed to finish her list.

"Alright, this is how things are going to work," Lauren announces as soon as they enter the green room. "I need me some Raisinettes."

"Brittany can go get them. Can't you?" Rachel volunteers her quickly, shooting her a nasty glare. Brittany begins to pout but a small smile makes its way onto her face when Quinn stands up for her.

"Don't order her around like that," Quinn snaps.

"Well, then why don't you both go to the concession stand?" Rachel crosses her arms in front of her small chest. She must be jealous because Brittany's boobs are awesome.

"Fine," Quinn concedes. She storms over to Sam before adopting a softer look and kissing him sweetly on the mouth. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Don't think I don't see how it is," Sam jokes. "You're dumping me for the next hot blonde that comes along."

Quinn giggles and lightly slaps his bicep. Brittany purses her lips and grabs Quinn's hand as she begisn to pull her out of the room. "Bye, Sal!"

"My name's Sam!" he yells back, frustrated.

"Whatever."

Quinn shakes her head in exasperation. Brittany wonders if her friend knows that she doesn't like the blonde jock or thinks that she really doesn't remember his name. Sometimes, she really doesn't. Names with S's confuse her; like breakfast.

Brittany combs through her hair with her fingers as Quinn argues with the guy behind the counter. Maybe flashing him would get him to give them the candy quicker. Just as she pulls at her top, she's distracted by a flash of red and navy blazer.

"Kurt!" she calls eagerly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Kurt turns around to look for her, waving back. He's talking to a Latina girl in a Catholic school girl uniform. Hot.

"Hey, Britt, Quinn," Kurt hugs the both of them. The girl behind him cocks her hip and sends her a seductive look. Brittany's stomach clenches, and she isn't surprised that her panties are a little wet. The girl is absolutely gorgeous. Quinn is all girl next door and wholesome; but this girl is exotic, mysterious, and probably a heart-breaker.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to these lovely ladies, Porcelain?" she purrs from behind the countertenor. Kurt rolls his eyes, but Brittany shivers from the sound of pure sex that just came from that girl's mouth. She must have been an amazing singer.

"This is Santana Lopez, one of the Crawford Canaries," he makes a dramatic flourish of his hand.

"I'm _the_ Crawford Canary. We're here to support the Warblers," Santana corrects. She scans Quinn and Brittany from head to tail. "And here I thought I wasn't going to have anything pretty to look at with a bunch of boys and old people on stage. You must be from New Directions."

"I'm Quinn."

"Brittany Sue Pierce," she introduces herself.

"Susan, Brittany. Your middle name is Susan," Quinn sounds exacerbated.

"I was only off by one syllabary this time," Brittany looks on the bright side of things.

"You mean syllable, honey," Kurt says gently. Brittany pouts that she didn't get it right this time.

Santana watches the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow and intrigued expression. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and Brittany is suddenly reminded of a snake scenting their prey. She really wouldn't mind being swallowed whole by this girl.

"So, are the Canary's competing this year?" Quinn asks, trying to bring the conversation back on topic.

"Yeah, our Sectionals was just a few days ago. We won, of course."

"Maybe we'll be up against you in Regionals," Quinn says with a polite smile.

"Not if you're lucky," Santana answers with a cocky smirk. "Not that this conservation isn't _stimulating_, but Heather let it slip to me earlier that she wasn't wearing any underwear so I have some business to attend to. I look forward to your performance, Nude Erections."

And with that, Santana sashays away, her skirt twirling mid-thigh length around her legs. Brittany keeps an interested stare on her ass. She definitely knows how to move her hips in all the right ways.

"That was…interesting," Quinn comments.

Kurt laughs a bit. "That's one word to describe her. You should hear her sing. It's like she's been blessed by Amy Winehouse herself. You should be careful around her, though; she's a flipper."

"Like a dolphin?" Brittany asks, checking back into the conversation.

"Like a dolphin," Kurt agrees. "Now what are you guys doing at the concession stand? I thought Rachel would be in her crazy-dictator mode, forcing you all to do warm-ups right up until the performance."

Brittany's in a daze up until the performance. She only checks back in when she and Artie make back up. It hurts that he thought she would cheat so easily; she's not that kind of girl. Mike and Tina are the cutest Asian couple ever, and all Mike talked about during practice was how amazing she was. But she was glad that her boyfriend believed in her enough to know that she would rock the performance.

As Sam and Quinn finished their charming duet, Brittany makes her way onto the stage. While she and Mike have the main dancing solo, Matt, Quinn, and Tina have big parts as well. The lights blinded her eyes, making her incapable of searching out a certain pair of dark eyes in the audience.

Something told her the girl would be watching her closely.

Artie starts with his solo, "Hey ya" by Outkast; it was a great dance song. Everyone thought that Brittany was stupid but it was truly because she focused all of her brain on her dancing. Why would she need anything else when it made her feel better than anything in the world?

New Directions rush off the stage after they bow to the audience. The adrenaline rush she feels post-performance is better than orgasms. Maybe that's why Rachel doesn't have sex.

Brittany walks over to the hallway for a drink. Once she bent over the water fountain, Brittany heard the faint clicking of heels coming closer and closer. When she looks up Santana is leaning against the wall, her stare burning a hole into Brittany's ass.

"You guys were better than I expected. Barbie and Ken were so freakin' charming," she says with a slightly edge, "and you certainly know how to move."

Santana saunters forward and Brittany has no idea what to do. She's usually the one making the first move. She's pinned to the wall before she has a chance to say anything. Santana's chest brushes lightly against her and it makes her breath hitch. Maybe she doesn't mind not having control this time.

Their lips are only an inch apart before Brittany remembers. "I have a boyfriend," she whispers when Santana leans in to close the gap.

Santana pulls back with an annoyed look on her face. "Okay, Britts," she almost jumps in surprise at the nickname. "We just met so you probably don't know how I do things. I want what I want, and I always get what I want. Got it? Good."

And with that, the Latina pushes forward and their lips crash together. Brittany doesn't even think about resisting as she quickly opens her mouth to allow the girl's insanely talented tongue in. The kiss has just enough teeth to make Brittany's knees wobble; she would have collapsed a long time ago if she hadn't been pinned against the wall.

Santana pulls away, her hot breath fanning across Brittany's face. And with that, she peels her body away and swaggers down the hallway.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Brittany calls after her, confused and horny.

"I like lots of foreplay," Santana winks. "I'll see you around, Brittany Pierce. Be sure to get rid of your boyfriend by then."

Brittany watches her leave just like last time. She closes her eyes and lets her head loll back against the wall. Her pussy throbs uncomfortably; maybe she has enough time to get herself off in the bathroom before they announce the results.

Just as she thinks this, Quinn and Sam appear at the end of the hallway. Quinn says, "Come on, Brittany. We need to get on stage before Berry has an aneurism."

"Who was that with you in the hallway? She said something about you needing some time to cool down as she passed us," Sam asks as Brittany rejoins them. They make their way onto the stage for the winner to be announced. Brittany knows that they will make it to Regional's without a doubt.

"Santana Lopez. She liked your duet, Salvador."

"My name is Sam," he groaned.

"Sorry, Samantha," Brittany apologizes with an innocent look on her face.

* * *

><p><strong>Regionals<strong>

Santana has slowly gone from a memory at the back of her mind to a thought constantly on her mind as they reach Regionals. She was equally part relieved and disappointed when Mr. Schuester announced that they would be going up against Aural Intensity and the Warblers instead of the Canaries. Santana was probably as good as Kurt claimed she was, and then they would have even more to worry about.

Would she see the mesmerizing Latina this time? The girl had said that they were at Sectionals to support the Warblers; maybe they would be doing the same this time. Brittany was nervous, but this time for a completely different reason. She was still dating Artie and still very much in love, but she wasn't sure if she could control herself around Santana this time.

The girl had warned her to break up with her boyfriend.

Brittany sighs, earning a concerned look from Artie. He takes her hand and kisses her on the cheek. This time he's there to distract her from Quinn, who has moved on from Sam and straight to Finn, but it's not enough to keep her mind from buzzing. She wonders if the club would be surprised that she even thought this much.

They're all sitting in the green room as they wait for the judges to finish deliberating. Santana has yet to appear and that doesn't make her feel any better. Brittany pulls her hand from Artie, suddenly wanting a distance from him, and begins twiddling her thumbs. She wishes she brought her coloring book.

A few minutes later Mr. Schuester ushers them onto the stage where a drunken lady tells them they just won. Brittany jumps up and down in excitement. She's going to the Big Apple! Quickly she turns to Quinn, who is moodily glaring at an embracing Finn and Rachel. She quickly hugs her, wanting to distract her friend from that stupid jock.

They're all still screaming in excitement when they walk backstage. Brittany surveys the area, quickly zoning in on the Warblers. She sees Kurt and Blaine exchanging sweet kisses in the corner, which makes her all warm inside. But there, in the group of Canaries consoling the disappointed Warblers is Santana Lopez. She turns around, as if she senses her gaze, and raises an eyebrow. Santana gestures for her to follow, and Brittany does so without a second thought.

"I have to go call Lord Tubbington and make sure he doesn't use up all the hot water. I want to take a bath when I get home," she tells Artie, who gives her a dumbfounded look. Not that she even notices as she chases after the elusive girl.

"Gah!" Brittany yells in alarm as arms pull her into a closet. She only relaxes when the grainy light reveals a smirking Santana. The singer doesn't crowd her this time, instead keeping just the right amount of distance to make Brittany want to reach out and grab her.

"While I do admit you Nude Erections certainly must have balls to perform original songs, I'm disappointed," Santana says. "Your songs were average and the choreography, frankly, sucked. I was looking forward to seeing you shake your ass."

Brittany should tell Santana that she's in love with Artie. She should leave the closet and go back to her boyfriend. There are a lot of things she should do.

But instead Brittany lunges forward and crashes their mouths together. Santana stumbles backward to surprise but grabs the dancer's hips to pull her closer. The Canary switches their positions so that Brittany is once again pressed against the wall. Their movements are rough and hurried.

Brittany shoves her thigh in between Santana's legs, the Latina quickly catching on and grinding down. Her soft palms move from her hips to under her dress. One rests on her clenched stomach, hand surprisingly cold, while the other moves up to tweak her nipple. Brittany moans into painted red lips.

"Brittany!" an exclamation comes from the doorway.

The two girls stumble in surprise, their legs tangling and causing them to crash onto the floor. Brittany's boob pops out of her dress, and Santana is straddling her waist awkwardly.

"Are you serious?" Santana groans in frustration. Quinn is standing in the entrance to the closet with a shocked look on her face. The Christian girl quickly averts her eyes as they make themselves presentable.

"I can't believe you would do this to Artie, Brittany!" Quinn lectures, her back still turned. "I thought you loved him! You're really going to regret screwing things up with him."

"You still have a boyfriend? I thought I told you to break up with him!" Santana snaps at her.

"Who the hell are you to tell her who to be with? You guys met once, at Sectionals!" Quinn turns back around angrily. Brittany looks at the floor, a guilty feeling constricting her heart. What if Quinn tells Artie? How would she apologize for that? Did she even regret it?

"Whatever, blondie," Santana yells, readjusting her panties. "I'm done with this, anyway. Call me when you want a harpy-free hookup."

Santana shoots her one last heated look that Brittany doesn't even catch. She's too busy twisting her hands in front of her. Quinn is giving her a disappointed glance that she occasionally exchanges for a glaring at Santana's retreating back.

"Why would you do this, Brittany?" Quinn asks, suddenly sounding very tired. "You're just going to regret it."

"It's not like you have any room to talk," Brittany retorts, anger slowly building up in her body. "Are you going to tell him?"

"No," Quinn answers quietly. There's a period of strained silence before she continues. "I came to find you because the bus is leaving soon. Wipe your mouth; you have lipstick smeared all over your face."

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><p><em>Part Two: Nationals!<em>


	2. Part 2

**Short Skirt, Long Jacket**

_Summary:_ Brittany never knew she had a school girl fetish until she met the Crawford Canary's lead soloist.

_Pairings: _Brittana, minor Quitt, mentions: Bartie, Quam, Fuinn

_Warnings: _sexual content (semi-public, fingering, oral), Quinn being a cock-block, and language.

_Notes_: The title is "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" by Cake, which strangely fits my headcanon on Santana.

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><p><em>Part Two<em>

**Nationals**

"I don't know what you want me to say, Artie."

"I just…want you to tell me that you still love me. That we can fix this and go back to the way we were," the wheelchair-bound boy sighs. Brittany is avoiding his eyes, not really wanting to feel guilty enough to get back together with him. All of this is Quinn's fault, who had told Artie all about Brittany and Santana in the closet after he had made a remark about Finn and Rachel.

"I do still love you," she allows. "But I don't think we can get back together. I told you I was sorry for cheating on you and that I wanted to make it up to you, but you threw it back in my face. I don't like it when people call me stupid. I think we should just be friends. I like being your friend."

"I like being your friend too," Artie says. He gives her a small smile that she can see is pained. She really does understand why he got so angry that she cheated on him, but she just can't bring herself to forgive him. It had taken Quinn at least three weeks of groveling and a locker stuffed with Dots for her to forgive her. And even then, all romantic feelings for her blonde friend had long since disappeared.

Things had become so confusing since Regionals. Quinn had lost Prom Queen to Kurt in a cruel prank, Finn had broken up with her, her own relationship with Artie had crashed and burned, and she had not heard from Santana since.

The image of the girl still haunted Brittany's dreams. It seemed unhealthy that the girl had so much influence over her after only two meetings. Even though she had broken up with Artie, she hadn't started sleeping with other people. It didn't seem as great now that she knew what it felt like with feelings.

Brittany says her goodbyes to Artie and makes her way back to the girl's room. Quinn and Mercedes are the only ones there, and they look like they are about ready to leave. "Hey," Quinn smiles at her cautiously. Things have been weird between them lately. "We're all heading out into the city to get inspiration. Are you coming?"

"Maybe later," Brittany answers, flopping down onto the bed. New York beds are extra fluffy; she snuggles further into the pillow.

"Just don't spend the entire day inside," Mercedes laughs. "We're in New York, baby!"

"Where's a baby?" Brittany asks, looking around the room. Did somebody loose one in here?

Mercedes gives her a strange look and just shakes her head without answering. Quinn waves goodbye, and they leave the hotel room together. She enjoys a few moments of silence before her thoughts start up again.

The buzzing is becoming so loud that she doesn't even realize that the knocking sound is coming from the door. "Shut up!" she yells, throwing one of the fluffy pillows at the wall.

"And here I was expecting a nicer greeting," comes a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Brittany rolls off of the bed in surprise, wondering if she is hallucinating again. "Are you going to open the door or not?"

Brittany jumps off the floor and rushes to the door, fumbling with the door knob before opening it. She's not crazy; Santana (fuckin') Lopez is standing in front of her with a hand on her cocked hip and a smirk on her face.

"I ran into Barbie downstairs in the lobby and she told me that you've been moping in your hotel room," she smiles at Brittany's shocked face. "No more of that. Get a coat and your purse because we're going out."

"Okay," Brittany numbly nods. She quickly grabs her jacket and stuffs her wallet and cellphone into her pocket. "Where are we going?"

"We're in New York, so of course we're going to go get some pizza. We take a stroll through Madison Square Park, swing past the Broadway, and we're going to go right up to the top of the Empire State Building. I don't know about you, but I'm coming straight here after high school for college. I want to get the lay of the land."

"I want to dance. Can you do that in New York?"

"You can do anything here," Santana giggles. This is the most giddy Brittany has ever seen the usually aloof and seductive Canary; it's not a bad change. She feels herself cheering up and grabs Santana's hand, swinging their arms between them.

"You look hot today," Brittany says, noticing it as soon as she really looks. Santana is out of uniform, which disappoints her, a little, but she's wearing a tight green and black striped mini-dress with purple ruffles right on the ass. She's also wearing a lime yellow jacket and hooker boots.

"I know," she throws the blonde a heated look. "You don't look so shabby yourself."

"Let's go to Madison Square Park first!"

"You got it, babe."

The subway is exciting and kind of gross at the same time, because that homeless man keeps smiling at her, but Brittany loves it. Suddenly Kurt and Rachel's exclamations of New York make so much sense to her. She used to think that she wasn't smart enough to make it out of Ohio, and maybe she isn't very smart, but Brittany knows that she won't stop until she's walked these streets again. She wants to dance on a Broadway stage or join The Rockettes.

"So, Brittany Susan Pierce, tell me about you. I barely know you," Santana says as they settle onto a bench by a pond. Brittany giggles delightedly at the Mama and baby ducks.

"I'm a Junior. I…love ducks, and dancing, and Britney Spears, and Glee Club. I used to be a Cheerio, and we won all the National trophies, but I quit because Coach Sylvester wanted to shoot me out of a cannon. I didn't want to die before One Tree Hill was canceled."

Santana gives her that shocked look that everyone always does before nodding like she gets. No one else has reacted like that, not even Quinn. She continues, "I like dinosaur chicken nuggets and crayons. My favorite color is Purple Mountain's Majesty. Breakfast confuses me; is it salty or sweet? What if I want to have eggs for dinner?

"I have two cats: Lord Tubbington and Charity. Tubs is a fat kitty, and he keeps sneaking smokes into the house. Charity always read my diary, no matter what booby-traps I put up. I'm not very smart," she finishes. "Sometimes I wish my life was like one of those really sad romantic movies, but only during the happy parts. No one has ever done anything really romantic for me like bringing me a bouquet of peonies or serenading me with a love song."

"Really?" Santana looks surprised. "You must have guys crawling on the floor for a chance with you."

"Not really. They only want sex. Mike and Artie were my only two boyfriends. Mike can't sing, and Artie doesn't do anything romantic. One time he serenaded me, but it was just Pretty Young Thing. It wasn't a love song."

"Romantic crap makes me want to puke," Santana declares. "I'd deck any guy that tried that with me, and not just because I'm a lesbian. I like bling, end of story."

Brittany smiles at her, "do you have a girlfriend?"

"No. I did, last year, but it didn't turn out very well. I'm a flirt, and she was really jealous. And, anyway, I wouldn't have asked you out if I had a girlfriend. I like you; you're simple."

With that last sentence, Brittany's blood turns to ice. "I'm not stupid!"

Santana watches in stunned silence as she yells then storms off. "Wait, Brittany!" she hears as Santana chases after her. She doesn't stop until a hand grabs her arm. "That's not what I meant. I didn't mean stupid-simple."

"Then what did you mean?" Brittany sniffles.

"I meant…no drama. You like what you like and that's that."

"Didn't you say something like that when we first met?"

"Maybe," Santana laughs and shakes her head. "Look, I'm kind of messed up. I sleep around, and I'm a bitch. I'm not any good for you; I like being around you anyway. You don't have any baggage."

"Of course I do; I took a plane here," Brittany plainly states. Santana pauses for a moment before throwing her head back in a booming laugh, her chest shaking with amusement. Her boobs are really nice. "I think you're nice. But you didn't tell me anything about yourself after I did."

Santana calms down enough to shoot her a sweet smile. "Look, this is what we'll do: I help you live some cheesy romantic movie by showing you around New York and doing all the cliché stuff with you. I'll tell you all the gritty details about me, but please let me get you cab before you run away in fear. I wouldn't want you to get lost."

"Where do we start?" asks Brittany. Santana just smirks, taking her hand and pulling her over to the musicians playing along the sidewalk.

"What better way to start a cheesy movie montage than with music?" Santana teases. She slips the guy a twenty dollar bill. "Do you know any Britney Spears?"

"I'm so much more talented than her," she states plainly. "Can we even do this? Wouldn't it be weird?"

"It's New York, I'm sure they've seen weirder things," Santana says. "_All my people in the crowd grab a partner, take it down_."

Despite what Rachel Berry thinks, it's not the usual for people to spontaneously burst into song. And yet Brittany finds herself joining in on the vocals and dancing around Santana. The girl is almost as good at moving as she is. As they continue with their song, a crowd begins to gather around them.

Men might be leering at the two of them, but Brittany is much too focused on Santana. Santana's dress rides up in the back as she twists her legs around and dances. The Latina exudes sex, especially when she lets out the especially breathy lyrics. All of her inhibitions slowly dissolve as they perform for the crowd, and she reaches out a hand to slap Santana's ass. Brittany definitely understands why she was immediately attracted to Santana; the girl is fiery and _alive_.

They're both giggling by the time the song comes to an end, almost not noticing the applauding crowd. Brittany locks eyes with Santana and the world seems to disappear around her. Santana's dark eyes are shining as she just _smiles_; it's like the sun. Their audience filters away as they realize they won't be singing another song, dropping dollar bills into the open guitar case of the musician.

Santana grabs a few bills, stuffing them in her bra. At the musician's dirty look, she only raises an eyebrow. "I earned this, rags. You gotta problem with it—well, I got razor blades in my hair. All up in there."

* * *

><p>"Where to start," Santana stalls as Brittany chews on her piece of pizza. They made their way to the pizza shop straight after performing in the park, both having worked up an appetite. She sat their patiently, waiting for the girl to start her story. She was so curious. "I used to live in Lima. I grew up there, and I think we might have gone to the same middle school. That's where things went wrong.<p>

"I was so insecure back then, desperate to catch the guy's attention. I really wasn't interested; I just wanted to fit in. So at my friend's party, we made a plan to kiss in front of everyone," Santana rolls her eyes. "After all, horny guys love lesbians. Imagine my surprise when I liked kissing my best friend more than the boyfriend I got the next day."

Brittany has made out with girls before; for parties and for her list. But she had known she had a thing for girls and guys (especially Quinn) long before any of that. It must have been a horrible way to figure things out.

"I was terrified, so I went to my parents for help. This was right after graduation," Santana continues. "I'm just glad that my parents aren't very smart. I would have been a complete disaster today if they had the sense to send me to one of those pray the gay away camps. Instead, they got the wonderful idea that sending me to an all-girl's Catholic boarding school would make me less of a lesbian."

"That sounds like something out of a porno," Brittany giggles.

"There's a decent amount of lesbians, and all the singles girls are willing to indulge in their bi-curiosity with a girl like me," she shimmies a bit. "I don't know; it took me a while to accept myself. I even started dating some of the Dalton boys in my freshman year."

"Is that what was supposed to make me run away?" Brittany asks serenely.

"A self-loathing, slutty lesbian with abandonment issues doesn't exactly seem like the kind of person anyone wants to spend time with. Well, except Blaine, but he's pretty messed up to. Bastard just hides it better," she says with a fond look.

"I like spending time with you," Brittany finishes off her piece. "Now, I want to know about you."

Santana raises an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. "I'm great in bed," she purrs, "I secretly love country music. My favorite band is Fleetwood Mac, but my favorite singer is Alanis Morissette. I'm left-handed; I have a stuffed unicorn that I sleep with every night, even though I hid it under my bed when people are in my room. I smoke cigars to enhance my voice. I'm going to be the first Latina, lesbian President."

Santana is interesting and fascinating, traits that are hard to find in some place like Lima, Ohio. Santana is the girl that skips down Broadway while shooting glares at anyone who gives her a second glance. Not all of them are even judgmental; she's the type of girls that draws all eyes. Brittany is no exception.

"You can see everything from here," Brittany sighs happily as they stand in the Empire State Building. Memories of New Directions singing 'Empire State of Mind' in the school courtyard assault her. This is so much more exhilarating.

"Brittany," Santana says from next to her in a shaky voice. "I never realized I was afraid of heights until just right now."

The girl's eyes are vulnerable and a little frightened; that's all it takes for Brittany to lean over and seal their lips together. Santana gasps against her mouth before quickly responding to the kiss. Unlike their others, this is not rushed or rough. They stand there for a few minutes, lips gently massaging each other.

"Let's go back to my hotel room," Brittany invites her. Santana nods quickly, and they get onto the escalator.

The sexual tension is stifling. They forgo the subway and go straight for the cab, where they sit as far away from each other as possible. The lobby of the hotel room is bit crowded with other show choir competitors, and Santana links their pinkies together as they make their way to the right floor.

The room is quiet and unoccupied; Santana shoves Brittany down onto the bed before climbing on her without hesitation. Their mouths are sealed together as Santana's dexterous fingers go straight for the button of her jeans. Santana is a searing hot weight on top of her as she wraps her legs around the girl's skinny waist.

"Oh, god," Santana moans and sheds her shirt. By this time they're both in their bra and panties, and Brittany's pants are tossed over the lampshade. Brittany pulls her mouth away, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Santana's neck, toying with the hook of her bra. The Latina whimpers next to her ear, her black hair falling in a curtain around their faces.

"You're so sexy," Brittany tells her. She flips the two over, her mouth leaving a love bite on the skin right above where Santana's bra starts. The dark girl writhes below her as she slips her bra off. She sucks a nipple into her mouth and twirls her tongue around it. Santana's fingers reach up to touch Brittany's core through her panties. She slips her fingers under the fabric and traces along the slit.

As Santana's fingers slip into her pussy, Brittany bites down on the other nipple. Santana gasps for breath as her thighs clench. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

When they first hear the rustling from in front of the door, they ignore it, especially when Brittany's tongue traces a path down Santana's taunt stomach.

"Dammit, I hate these keycards," Quinn's voice comes from the hallway. The two girls freeze in panic.

"You've got to be kidding me," Santana begins to curse under her breath in Spanish.

"Brittany, are you in there? My card keeps being denied," Quinn calls. The two jump off of each other, gathering their clothes. Brittany gestures for them to rush into the bathroom. They close and lock the door behind them; Santana breaths heavily as she rests the back of her head against the mirror.

"I'm in the bathtub!" Brittany yells. "Mr. Duck gets lonely if I don't play with him regularly."

Santana stifles her laughter, grabbing Brittany's arms and maneuvering her to a sitting position on the bathroom counter. With a devious glint in her eyes she sinks to her knees and does away with Brittany's underwear.

Her tongue is already deep in the blonde girl's folds when Quinn finally opens the door. They're only separated by a room now. Brittany locks eyes with the Latina, who pulls her tongue out to suck on the girl's clit.

"Did you end up going out today?" Quinn asks.

"Y-yeah, for a bit," Brittany stutters out. Santana's tongue is as wicked as her words; Brittany isn't the least bit surprised. She's also hotter than any guy or fantasy she's been with before. She remembers a time where she wished Quinn would be the one to do this to her. She doesn't regret the switch in partners at all.

Santana pulls away from Brittany's core to bite and suck at the soft skin of her inner thigh. That move has always driven Brittany crazy (it's like Santana knows her body better than she does) and she struggles not to moan loudly. It's already awkward enough with Quinn in the other room; she doesn't want to see the expression on the girl's face when she finds out what's happening in the bathroom, no matter how funny it would probably be.

"Everyone's back in the boy's room. We're planning to finally write our songs. Be sure to finish up in the bath and go over there, alright?"

Brittany already feels the heat of arousal coiling in her belly, ready to release. She nods before realizing that Quinn cannot see her. "Okay!"

Her thighs tighten around Santana's head as they listen to Quinn leave the room. One more teasing bite to Brittany's clit is enough to tighten every inch of her body in the most delightful way possible. Brittany lets loose a scream as an intense orgasms runs through her body. She's limp against the mirror by the time she's done.

Santana stands up from the floor, licking her lips with a satisfied look. "Well, you heard the girl. You better get over to their room, quick."

"What about you?" Brittany asks numbly. She hasn't quite regained feeling in her legs.

"I'm sure you'll find some way to return the favor later," Santana swaggers out of the bathroom, dressing on her way to the door.

Brittany's already turned on again; she just wishes that Santana would stop walking away before she could kiss her good-bye.

* * *

><p><em>Part Three: The Crawford Canaries!<em>


	3. Part 3

**Short Skirt, Long Jacket**

_Summary:_ Brittany never knew she had a school girl fetish until she met the Crawford Canary's lead soloist.

_Pairings: _Brittana, minor Quitt, mentions: Bartie, Quam, Fuinn

_Warnings: _sexual content (semi-public, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms), Quinn being a cock-block, and language.

_Notes_: The title is "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" by Cake, which strangely fits my headcanon on Santana. The other song is "Arms" by Christina Perri.

* * *

><p>It's the case of the Mysterious Bouquet.<p>

It showed up in the morning while they were getting ready for their performance. It was a vase full of peonies with no note. The girls had hurriedly crowded around it, trying to figure out who it was for.

Rachel was convinced that it was a trick from Vocal Adrenaline. What the point of the flowers was—well, she hadn't quite managed to figure out.

Mercedes didn't say anything, but she alternated between giggling and being confused. Tina knew it wasn't from Mike because he knew that she hated flowers. Quinn glared viciously at Rachel; she thought that it was another attempt from Finn to woo his ex-girlfriend. Kurt had joined in on the discussion when he came over hours later. He theorized that it was from Jesse st. James, for Rachel.

Brittany tried to tell them it was just the leprechauns wishing them good luck at Nationals, but they had ignored her.

They were still arguing about it as they made their way down to the lobby. She scans the lobby for any signs of Santana, but the Latina is not there. She pouts, much to the confusion of her friends. Quinn seems to have caught on a bit, but Brittany hopes she doesn't figure out what really happened in the bathroom yesterday.

Mr. Schuester greets them as they meet up with the boys and make their way to the backstage area. Rachel walks ahead, glancing and glaring at anyone who spares her a second look. Brittany is slightly frightened by her intensity, but it's about what she expected. Finn is shooting her another kicked-puppy look. She wonders what went on between them—it was exhausting to keep up with their drama.

Brittany just really wants to see Santana again. The memory of how she worked her tongue haunted her dreams all last night.

She's helping Finn go over the choreography when Rachel rushes back into the room. Brittany never even noticed that she had left.

"I have news!" she screeches. Quinn blatantly covers her ears and continues her conversation with Sam.

"What news?" Finn asks, painfully overeager.

"I just heard the Crawford Canaries talking about their set-list. They were classified as one of the top teams to beat, but apparently their lead singer wants to change their ballad last minute! This is amazing; they'll probably sound so unprofessional," Rachel gushes happily.

Brittany is consumed by thoughts of Santana. Why would she want to change the song? Mumbling some excuse about using the bathroom, Brittany made her excuse. Now she would only need to find the Latina girl.

The backstage area was crowded, but Rachel had been wrong in implying that she had spied. The truth of the matter was that Santana and one of another girl were having a loud argument in the middle of the hallway.

"Calm down, Amy! We've already done this song before, what does it matter if it's last minute?" Santana growls at the girl. Amy rolls her eyes and stomps her foot in an eerie impression of Rachel Berry.

"The problem is that you're not the captain, Santana! You don't get to just go around making decisions on our set-list!" Amy retorts.

"Who doesn't mind the change?" Santana yells at the others, bringing them into the fight. The majority of the girls raise their hand to support Santana. The girl smirks at Amy, arching an eyebrow. "Do you still have a problem with it? I was given the ballad, and I want to change the song. End of story."

Brittany giggles into the hand, slightly turned on by Santana taking charge of her group like that. The brunette says a few more things in a quieter voice before walking away. Brittany is sure to follow her from a distance; she doesn't want to give herself away so early. As Santana turns into an abandoned hallway, Brittany catches up and grabs the girl from behind.

Santana stiffens before Brittany playfully nips at her ear. "You caught be by surprise," Santana says breathlessly.

"Sorry," but she really isn't. It's then when she notices what Santana is wearing; instead of her Crawford uniform, she's wearing a black trench coat that ends mid-thigh. There's no sign of dress underneath, and idly Brittany toys with the idea that she's naked under there, though it's unlikely. No matter how much she likes the image, Brittany manages to miss the short skirt. Santana has made her develop a Catholic school girl fetish, she's sure of it. "Where's your uniform?"

"Underneath," Santana gasps as Brittany slides a hand up her inner thigh and cups her through her panties. "It's part of our costume; for our group number."

Brittany nods, breathing hotly against the dark-skinned girl's neck. Her thumb slides along Santana's clit. She can feel the girl's knees buckle and is thankful that she's holding her up with the arm wrapped around her middle. "It makes you look really sexy. But I prefer your uniform. I really like uniforms."

Santana laughs breathlessly. "Everyone does."

"But I'm the only one that gets to touch you like this," Brittany promises. Santana gulps and nods in agreement, a whimper escaping her lips as Brittany slides a finger inside of her panties. Brittany wishes she could see the Latina from the front; she must look utterly obscene.

She licks and bites at the exposed neck, hoping to leave a mark obvious enough that her teammates will immediately notice. Brittany can't remember ever being so possessive; other guys were just sex, and no one was actively chasing after Artie. She can't take the chance of someone else noticing how beautiful Santana was and thinking they actually had a chance.

"Brittany," Santana keens and arches against her. "Anyone could walk by."

"Good," Brittany giggles, sounding far too innocent for a girl whose fingers are currently teasing Santana's pussy. She flexes them, scissoring, and rubs at her inner walls. "I'm repaying the favor, just like you said I would."

"You're evil," Santana chokes out sounding delighted. The Latina grinds downwards, causing Brittany's fingers to brush against her g-spot. Santana lets loose a moan and throws her head backwards to rest on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany brushes her lips softly against Santana's temple.

Her thumb works firmer on her clit, occasionally slipping into the slit to gather moisture. Another brush against her g-spot has Santana crying in pleasure and clenching against her finger. Brittany smirks as an idea pops into her head. She keeps her fingers stationary through Santana's orgasm where she would normally thrust along with the contractions.

"W-what?" Santana mumbles as she comes down from her high. Brittany determinedly rubs circles on her g-spot while pressing down on her clit. "Ah!" she cries, only some of it in protest. Brittany has only done this to herself a few times, and it had her practically comatose and shaking from pleasure by the time she had finished.

"Brittany!" she screams so loud that Brittany is lucky if someone doesn't come looking to see what the problem is. She doesn't think she's even mind that much; Santana probably wouldn't even notice in the first place. Santana's legs shake as she's forced into a second orgasm.

The third takes even Brittany by surprise. There's such a small gap between the second and third that they almost blend seamlessly together. Brittany takes mercy on Santana and pulls her fingers out as it tears through the girl. She helps lower her to the ground and against the wall. Santana's eyes are glazed over with pleasure and unseeing.

Brittany moves to bite down on her thumb, and then remembers the juices covering her fingers. With an innocent smile she sucks them into her mouth, working her tongue around them and thrusting them in and out of her mouth rhythmically. She'll have to go down on Santana next time; the girl tastes too good to pass it up.

"Are you okay now?" Brittany asks as she kneels beside her prone form. Santana blinks lazily, just now coming back to the world. Her body is still quivering with the intensity. "I hope I didn't break you."

"Good," Santana mumbles. "Can we do that again?"

"Well," Brittany teases. "You're single, I'm single, and so I think we should mingle. Do you have plans for this summer?"

"I plan on tying you to the bed and fucking your brains out for an entire weekend," Santana smirks and props herself further up against the wall. She tries to cover her modesty with adjusting her panties and skirt. "Does that count as plans?"

Brittany giggles and leans forward to press a quick peck to the sexy girl's lips. "Why did you want to change the set list?"

Santana blinks in confusion before remembering. "Well, I was going to sing Amy Winehouse's Back to Black, which I would have rocked, but I wanted to do something different. You'll see. You will watch the performance, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she promises.

"Did you like the flowers?" Santana asks quietly, suddenly looking very shy. Brittany blinks in surprise.

"You were the one who sent those?"

"You said that you liked peonies."

Brittany opens her mouth and closes it again; she isn't sure how to respond to that. Instead she says, "I think we should get back now before people notice."

"In a minute; I still can't walk."

* * *

><p>"Hi," Brittany greets the group brightly as she makes her way to where they're sitting in the audience. They only send her dubious looks, still confused about her disappearance. Puck waggles his eyebrows and winks, clearly the only one noticing the thick smell of sex around her. She winks back at him and takes the seat between him and Artie.<p>

"Where were you, Brittany? You disappeared, and I wanted to look for you, but Rachel wanted to watch the performances. What if you had missed our performance?" Artie asks.

"I wouldn't do that, I was just busy with something," she answers.

"Or someone," Puck mutters under his breath. Luckily, Artie doesn't hear him and turns his attention back to the stage.

The Crawford Canaries are the fifth team to get on the stage. Brittany smiles in anticipation as Santana takes her place in the front and the rest of the girls make a semi-circle around her. Santana is still wearing that black trench-coat, as are the others behind her. She's repainted her red lips, and they're close enough to see everything perfectly.

The audience's excitement is palpable; everyone in the show choir circuit has heard of the Canaries and their amazing soloist. Brittany has never heard Santana sing, but if it sounds anything like the pure sex of her normal voice, then she must be fantastic. Santana grips the microphone and says one thing that has the audience whispering amongst themselves:

"This is for Brittany."

Artie stiffens beside her, and she's sure she can hear Quinn's gasp as the other blonde connects the dots. Brittany doesn't even care as she leans forward in her seat, riveted to the stunning girl on stage.

"Wow, you must have been really good, Brittany," Puck chuckles from beside her.

"_I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart_," Santana sings quietly. The hype about her voice is completely accurate; it's so deep and soulful. "_But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start_."

There isn't much choreography, but the girls dance slowly behind Santana as she stands stationary in front of the microphone. She seems to be pouring her entire soul into her performance, and Brittany is sure that a few of the audience members are holding back tears.

A few lyrics of the song penetrate Brittany's mind and rattle around in her head.

"_How many times will let you me change my mind and turn around? I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown_."

"_I hope that you see right through my walls. I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling. I'll never let a love get so close. You put your arms around me and I'm home_."

Suddenly, a memory popped to the forefront of Brittany's mind. Santana sits beside her on a park bench, smiling encouragingly as Brittany talks about her.

"_Sometimes I wish my life was like one of those really sad romantic movies, but only during the happy parts. No one has ever done anything really romantic for me like bringing me a bouquet of peonies or serenading me with a love song_."

"_Look, this is what we'll do: I help you live some cheesy romantic movie."_

Santana wavers on the last note in a way that is so heartbreaking that it might have been planned from the start. The audience is on its feet in a standing ovation within seconds. Brittany is so numb with happiness that the only thing she really catches is Rachel's curse of, "Damn it! They have amazing harmonies!"

She wants to kiss her more than anything. Brittany has always been a romantic at heart, but no one had really cared about her enough to indulge her. She barely even knows Santana, but she's more perfect than any boyfriend or one-night stand has been.

Once the audience calms down, the Canaries transition into their second number. Brittany is disappointed when someone else takes the lead, but trains her eyes on Santana, who is standing right next to the girl. The song seems to be much more complicated in terms of harmonies, especially for an a capella group.

"_I want a girl with a mind like a diamond. I want a girl who knows what's best. I want a girl with shoes that cut and eyes that burn like cigarettes_," the singer's voice is a bit more rough and lower than Santana's. The other members are doing much more complicated dance moves than the previous song and the moves toe the thin line between provocative and blatantly sexual.

The trench-coat suddenly comes into play when Santana walks straight under the spotlight. "_I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooooong_," on the pause, she rips her jacket open, revealing the Crawford uniform. The other girls follow suit behind her, "_jacket_."

Santana writhes a bit in a way that leaps into the territory of blatantly sexual. Brittany sure doesn't mind, and she's sure no one else does either. Santana has a way of capturing the attention of even the most boy-crazy females. She'll be sure to keep Rachel away from her.

Santana really is a good dancer, along with her team mates. It isn't the most vocally challenging song, but Santana's earlier ballad makes up for it. The harmonies are still amazing, just as Rachel had complained about. The song ends with one more proclamation of "_I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket_" and the girls clear the stage to another standing ovation.

Brittany doesn't even notice the other groups perform until Puck is pulling her up from her seat. The audience has emptied out for intermission, and she remembers that their performance is coming up. A few of her friends, particularly Artie and Quinn, are eyeing her with curiosity.

She just wants to see Santana. Her eyes desperately scan over the backstage area until she catches sight of the Latina. Santana smiles at her from across the room. Brittany rushes over and grabs Santana into her arms. She's quick to pull her into a fierce kiss.

"What did you think of the song?" Santana laughs quietly when she releases her.

"I just totally want to you to tie me to a bed."

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

**(And check out my Brittana oneshot "Bubbles" along with my various genderswap oneshots, boy!Brittana included.)**


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